


Christmas Eve

by ladyroxanne21



Series: Eloped?! [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Nervous letter writing, Some references to Harry's shitty childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 22:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyroxanne21/pseuds/ladyroxanne21
Summary: After living with Harry for a month, Draco suddenly realizes that Christmas is coming up.





	Christmas Eve

Almost exactly one month after Draco had found out he was married to, and then moved in with Harry, he sat at the kitchen table drinking tea and reading the Daily Prophet. In keeping with most mornings, Harry had woken him up in a way that made his toes curl. Then Harry had left him to doze off as Harry showered, dressed, and left for work.

Draco frowned as it occurred to him that he had no idea if Harry ate breakfast. Setting his cup down and tilting his paper out of the way, Draco eyed Kreacher. “What did Harry have for breakfast this morning?”

Kreacher stopped polishing the silver and gave Draco his full attention. “Master Harry made himself an omelet with ham, chives, and cheese.”

“Why didn't he have you make it?” Draco wondered with a curious frown.

“Master _loves_ to cook,” Kreacher informed him. “He only lets Kreacher make his lunch so that he doesn't have to find the time to do it himself. Otherwise, he makes all his own food.”

“But...” Draco trailed off, his frown increasing. “I haven't seen him cook at all since I've been here.”

“Master Draco has been gone attending to business each night when Master Harry returns home and cooks dinner. And when you are both home on the weekends, he's either taken you out to eat or had Kreacher serve leftovers that have been kept in stasis from previous meals. Master Harry likes to cook a lot and usually has a large amount of leftovers in stasis – which help him when he comes home too tired from work to cook,” Kreacher explained.

“But... _why_ would Harry keep this a secret from me?” Draco wondered, honestly baffled.

“Master Harry thinks that Master Draco will worry about being poisoned or falling ill if Master Draco doesn't think that Kreacher does all the cooking.”

“Er...” Draco couldn't deny that he probably would have thought that the first few days of living here, but after that, well, it didn't seem likely that Harry had plans to harm him.

Kreacher smiled at Draco a bit obliviously, as if Draco had just praised him for something and the elf was eager to prove himself worthy. “The first dinner Master Draco attended, Master Harry came home from work early and spent hours slow roasting the lamb chops and simmering the clam and bacon chowder so that it was the perfect consistency. He had an apple bread pudding ready for dessert as well. He put that in stasis if Master Draco would like to try some. It goes well with tea.”

“That sounds good, actually,” Draco murmured, feeling strangely guilty for some reason.

With a nod, Kreacher rushed to the stasis box. As he retrieved the apple bread pudding, he told Draco: “Master Harry left me his shopping list this morning for the Christmas dinner he plans to make. Master tends to go to the Burrow with Master Ron and Mistress Hermione each Christmas day, but he also has a special dinner the weekend before or after for all of his friends. This year, he's also planning something small for the two of you on Christmas eve – since he's certain that Master Draco will spend Christmas day at Malfoy Manor with Master and Mistress Malfoy.”

Draco felt like all the blood just drained from his face and chest, down through his stomach and legs, and onto the floor. “Buggering Hell! I hadn't even  _thought_ about Christmas!” Which meant that Harry had made all these plans without realizing that Draco hadn't given much thought to the fact that it was December.

Traditionally, Draco didn't have to worry about Christmas presents because their family jeweler had been commissioned ever since Draco received the key to his very own vault to make something unique and special for his mother (that matched the something unique and special his father commissioned). The jeweler also had instructions to select something in a certain price range for Pansy and Millicent, and now Astoria, plus Daphne ever since she married Theo. The presents were sent out automatically each year. The same as the expensive selection of fine liquor that was sent to Blaise, Theo, and Greg.

As for his father, since it was sort of ridiculous to buy each other expensive gifts they didn't really want or need, they had long ago fallen into the habit of simply casting a very powerful protection spell on each other that relied on their blood tie to keep them safe from most of the more common hexes and curses. Obviously, it couldn't protect from the Unforgivable Killing Curse, nor any of the truly nasty dark curses, but it gave them a chance to survive anything less than an AK. It had actually come in handy over the years, but it only lasted approximately a year, which is why they cast it each Christmas.

In any case, he never really had to put much thought into a holiday that had stopped impressing him right about the time the Dark Lord was resurrected and the hols – all of them actually – had become something to endure. Last year had been pleasant enough – the highlight being the party Pansy and Blaise had thrown starting the next day and lasting all the way through to the new year. Which had become something of a tradition in the three years since they'd been married.

If he were honest, that party was responsible for at least half of the total amount of shagging between the three of them that they had done all of last year. However, there had been between 30 and 50 guests staying on and off for the entire week, so all three of them had had plenty of other partners to occupy them too.

Draco felt strange all over again as he wondered what he was supposed to do this year. Bring Harry with? Not go at all? Go but not have any of the fun he usually did?

That minor dilemma only managed to distract him from the far more pressing problem of what in the bloody hell he was supposed to get Harry for a present. Wait.  _Was_ he supposed to get Harry a present?

Without even really thinking about it, he took a bite of the apple bread pudding Kreacher served him with a fresh cup of tea. Suddenly, his entire attention was on the food in his mouth. He stopped chewing for a moment to simply roll the food around on his tongue and  _taste_ it.

“This is bloody fantastic!” He gushed a moment later before hastily shoving another bite in his mouth. Part of him was extremely glad that Harry wasn't home to see him practically having an orgasm over something so simple as food. By the time he was finished eating, he was feeling inexplicably guilty again.

With a sigh of mild frustration, Draco summoned – or actually  _tried_ to summon stationary. When that failed, he tried to summon parchment. When that failed, he called for Muffy to bring him some of his stationary from Malfoy Manor. Kreacher grumbled an explanation about muggle  _paper_ and notepads and sticky notes, but Draco wasn't really listening.

Lightly biting his lip in concentration, Draco wrote:  _Granger, it suddenly occurred to me that Christmas is coming up soon and I have no idea what to buy my idiot Gryffindor of a husband. Would you be so kind as to select something he likes for me? I'll send you as much money as it'll take to obtain the perfect present._

Draco sat back and reread that. He had a sinking feeling that this note would be ignored at best and responded to with a howler at worst. With a sigh, he tried again.

 _Dearest Hermione, my_ ~~ _darling?_~~ ~~_Beloved?_~~ ~~_Insufferable?_~~ ~~_Tolerable?_~~ ~~_Currently aggravating as bloody hell!_~~ _Charming?_

Actually, charming could work.

_Charming husband is difficult to shop for._ ~~_I have no bloody fucking clue what to buy him._ ~~ _Would you kindly pick up something he'd like, er, love and..._

Draco sighed again and started over.

_Good day Granger, I hope this letter finds you well. I'm currently in something of a quandary. It's been brought to my attention that I will be needing to buy a present for my charming husband soon and could use a bit of advice on the subject._

Once again, Draco had the feeling that his note was more likely to provoke eye rolls than help. Besides, now that he had a moment to think about it, charming and husband should not be used in the same sentence when referring to Harry.

_Bloody know-it-all, I need to buy Harry sodding Potter a fucking present and I'm already beyond fucking aggravated at the buggering prospect. So could you kindly pull your abnormally large nose out of that bloody book and be arsed to buy a buggering gift that bloody golden boy would be fucking chuffed about?_

As amusing as that note was, Draco was certain it would get him hexed into next week. In a better mood, he cast an Incendio on it so that it couldn't be accidentally discovered by said bloody golden boy. Then he selected a fresh sheet of stationary and tried again.

_Dear Granger, would you be so kind as to help me find the perfect Christmas present for my surprisingly caring husband? Sincerely, Draco Malfoy._

Well... it might be lacking in artistic flourish and polite diplomacy, but actually, it might just work better for being so plain. He stared at it for a long time, trying to determine if he should reword anything or add to it. Finally deciding that it was the best he was going to do without coming across as insincere, Draco set his quill aside.

“Kreacher, bring the owl, er wait...” 

In the last month, Draco hadn't seen an owl actually stay here longer than it took to deliver something. Harry himself never seemed to need one – aside from the time when he'd written to Draco, on the back of a disgustingly greasy scrap of trash, no less! For that, he'd borrowed the owl that Draco vaguely remembered as belonging to the weasel. Hmm...

“Kreacher, can you deliver this message to Hermione Granger for me?”

“Yes, Master Draco. Kreacher occasionally has to deliver things to her office in the Ministry, so do not worry. Kreacher will deliver it right away.”

“Could you also wait to see if she has a reply?” Draco wondered hopefully.

“Of course, Master,” Kreacher assured him with a respectful bow. A moment later, he took the note and Disapparated.

As fate would have it, Hermione was in the middle of a meeting with Harry and two other people. Knowing his place, Kreacher stood quietly off to the side. They were currently discussing a case that required cooperation from a few different departments, and were so absorbed that it actually took them a few minutes to notice Kreacher standing in the corner, patiently waiting for them to finish.

“Kreacher,” Hermione exclaimed in mild surprise when she looked up from the book she was reciting laws and procedures from. 

“Is something wrong,” Harry immediately asked in concern.

“No, nothing is wrong, Master Harry. Kreacher simply has a note from Master Draco.”

“That's unusual,” Harry murmured, still rather concerned. “Well go on, hand it over.”

With a nod, Kreacher walked over and handed the note to Hermione, who inhaled softly in surprise. Harry tilted his head to the side in confusion. Hermione read the note and then bit her lip to prevent an amused laugh.

“Well, what's he want?” Harry demanded.

“I'm not sure I should say,” Hermione murmured diplomatically.

Rolling his eyes, Harry snatched the note from her. He couldn't help but give the note a fond little smile. He looked up to find Hermione watching him avidly.

“You know, I honestly wasn't sure he even remembered that Christmas was coming up,” he informed her. “Tell him that I could use a new pair of shoes.”

Hermione quirked a brow at him. “ _Shoes_ ?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, what else do I need?”

Hermione laughed softly. “It's not necessarily about what you  _need_ , Harry. What are you planning to get him?”

She glanced apologetically at the other two members of the meeting, but both seemed content enough to wait out the interruption.

Harry pinched his chin with his right pointer finger and thumb and frowned slightly. “Well, I was thinking about prime seats to his favorite Quidditch team, but I am fairly sure that he owns the top box. So then I was thinking maybe another bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy, but I'm not sure he'd appreciate it considering what happened the last time I got him that. Which means that I'm going to have to put a bit more thought into it.”

Hermione smiled at him adoringly. Then she turned to Kreacher. “Tell Draco that I would be happy to go shopping with him this weekend. Please try to avoid mentioning that Harry was here with me and knows everything.”

“And also, if Draco happens to mention what he'd like, please try to remember it,” Harry added.

“Yes Mistress Hermione, Master Harry,” Kreacher replied with a bow just before he returned home.

“ _Shoes_ ,” Hermione muttered in amusement, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

“ _What_ ?” Harry asked sheepishly. “I'm easy to buy for.” Then he shrugged. “Besides, I'm sent far more than I could ever want or need by fans, so...”

Hermione tilted her head to the side and nodded to admit that was true. “Harry, try to understand, the very fact that you are easy to shop for is exactly what makes you so hard to buy a  _good_ present for. You love just about everything, so it takes quite a bit of thought to find something meaningful.”

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. Rather than argue, Hermione pointed at the book on her desk. “As I was saying, this law is particularly difficult because...”

 

***

 

“It's tea... with my parents...” Draco half muttered,  _knowing_ that this was bound to be all kinds of awkward.

“Tea? At the Manor?” Harry asked for clarification.

“Yes, although, if it would make you feel more comfortable, I could have mother make reservations at her favorite tea room,” Draco said, slightly disconcerted to realize that he was trying to make Harry, well, not happy exactly (considering who else would be in attendance) but at ease. Or at least as much as possible.

“Madame Puddifoot's?” Harry asked in amusement.

“No,” Draco replied flatly. “Claridge's actually.”

“Isn't that a muggle place?” Harry asked curiously.

“Of course that's what  _they_ like to think, but it's belonged to a wizarding family ever since it first opened,” Draco informed him.

Harry shrugged. “Actually, I don't mind going to the Manor. That way, I might get a chance to see your bedroom.”

“Why Harry, are you trying to shag me in the house my parents live in?” Draco asked in a tone that was clearly faux scandalized.

Harry grinned at him. “Well, that actually wasn't the first thing I had in mind, but I could bump it to the top of the list if you like.”

Draco couldn't help but be puzzled by this. “Then what  _is_ the first thing you had in mind?”

Harry looked away to hide his mild embarrassment. “Just wanted to see what you're used to. I'm also curious about how much of it is the same as when you were in Hogwarts – not that I ever saw it, but maybe you'd tell me?”

Draco was surprised by this. “Er... Alright.” He almost blushed as the thought of Harry in his bedroom crossed his mind. The mental pictures alone reminded him of quite a few of his younger wank fantasies. Too bad tea wasn't until tomorrow.

He'd just have to come up with something to keep them occupied in the meantime. A glance at the kitchen table reminded him that Kreacher had just finished clearing it of their breakfast dishes. With a smirk, Draco stood up.

“Kreacher, go clean something in another room until further notice,” Draco ordered as he sat on the portion of the table directly in front of Harry.

Harry raised a brow in amusement. “I thought those trousers were too valuable to sit anywhere without a special charm to protect them from any possible damage.”

“Good point,” Draco murmured, standing up and unfastening his dark gray wool silk blend. He pushed them and his gloriously silky black pants down just so far. Then he resumed his seat on the table.

With a grin, Harry bent to the task of polishing that beautiful shaft with his tongue and hand. He was careful to give it a real spit shine. Alternatively, he practiced taking it as far down his throat as possible.

It didn't take Draco long to clutch Harry's hair in an attempt to remain steady on the table as his legs shook and his balance more or less deserted him. A soft cry of sheer bliss escaped him as a storm of pleasure gathered at the base of his spine. And then Harry hummed.

“Are you ready Drac – oh!” Hermione squealed in embarrassment and promptly turned to face the fire she had just emerged from.

Draco slapped a hand over his mouth to smother the squeal of mortification that just so happened to coincide with his orgasm. Harry chuckled even as he swallowed every drop. When he was able to pull back, he roared with laughter.

“Now you know what it's like!”

Hermione giggled even as she continued to face the fire. “That hasn't happened in a while!”

Harry helped hold Draco steady as he stood up and tugged his pants and trousers back into place. “Shortly after Ron and Hermione first moved in together, they'd invite me over for tea or wine or just to chat, and then forget about it by the time I'd get off work and show up. So I caught them basically doing the same thing to each other so many times I lost count!”

Draco chuckled now that he was fit for polite company again. “Sounds like Pansy and Blaise except for the fact that they'd either invite me over to specifically to join in or simply take advantage of the fact that I'd arrived at the opportune moment.”

Harry tilted his head curiously. “That happen often?”

“Back toward the beginning of their marriage, yes, but not as much these days,” Draco informed him. “That reminds me, I have something to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Harry questioned even as Hermione took a peek over her shoulder and – determining it to be safe – turned around to watch them curiously.

“Each year from the day after Christmas until the New Year, Blaise and Pansy throw a party for couples and trusted single friends who basically get tipsy and shag until they just can't walk anymore. I was wondering if I should decline the invitation this year, or if you are interested in attending.”

“Hmm...” Harry hummed in thought. “I'm not sure. I'd have to give it some thought. I mean, I had fun when we went to that club together and flirted and danced with others, but this is something else completely.”

Hermione knew that Harry valued her ability to help him figure things out by asking the right questions, so that's exactly what she did. “How important is this party to you, Draco?”

Finding no malice or judgment in her face or tone, Draco shrugged and decided to answer honestly. “Well, it's thrown by my best friends and has always been a source of fun for me. That said, I haven't given any actual thought to how much I want to go this year. It's just been what I've done, and so I assumed that it's what I'd do.”

“And am I right to assume that the party is attended by witches and wizards the majority of which are purebloods or Slytherins?” Hermione wondered.

Draco thought this over for a moment. “Er... actually, the guest list is made up of witches and wizards from all across Europe, and thus, aren't necessarily Slytherins. As for purebloods, I suppose that's likely, but you might be surprised to know that Blaise and Pansy prefer their guests to be...” he paused to think of the right word. “Sexually open rather than belonging to any particular background.”

Hermione smiled in understanding. “Alright. How likely are they to want Harry there?”

Draco snorted in amusement. “Are you kidding? Blaise would probably give me his island in the Caribbean just to have a  _chance_ at shagging Harry!”

He didn't notice Harry blush at this news, but Hermione did, which made her grin.

“And Pansy would probably use the news to entice a few of the more important guests to stay longer – Ah. I think I have just answered my own question,” Draco murmured.

“What do you mean?” Harry wondered in confusion.

“Just that I can understand how upset you'd be if Pansy used your presence to her favor, and – now that I think about it – just being around all those strangers – witches and wizards who would likely fawn all over you, well, I'm sure it would make you uncomfortable.”

Harry shrugged. “As I said, I'll think about it.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Would it make you feel better or more awkward if I talked Ron into us going to the party with you?”

Harry raised a brow at her. “Ron nearly murdered us both when he thought I'd married you. I'm fairly sure that he'd hex anyone who looked at you twice!”

Hermione snickered. “There is that.” Then she shrugged. “But he'd give it a go if it made you feel better.”

Harry leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at her in highly amused disbelief.

Hermione snorted. “The party, not you!”

Draco smirked, also amused. “The entire golden trio? Pansy could charge an exorbitant admission and raise enough money to fund her favorite charity for the next five years!”

Hermione blushed and looked away. “ _Anyway_ , perhaps we should take that stroll along Diagon Alley we planned.”

Harry feigned ignorance by frowning. “What stroll?”

“Just never you mind!” Hermione told him off.

Harry held up his hands and backed away with an expression that made it clear that he knew better than to argue with Hermione when she used that tone of voice.

Harrumphing in triumph, she held her hand out to Draco. Draco took her hand warily. Not only was he trusting her to Apparate him without splinching him, but he wasn't quite sure how to feel about the fact that Harry would just let him bugger off with his friend without an explanation. It seemed like he should be at least a little curious.

Which meant that Harry must actually suspect the reason for their sudden desire to take a friendly walk. Draco pursed his lips and silently admitted that even Greg could probably parse that. Oh well, at least Harry now knew that he was trying, which – after all – was exactly what he wanted in the first place.

The moment they were gone, Harry bit his lip and wondered what to do for the next couple of hours. Then it occurred to him that he hadn't had a chance to decorate his house yet. Work had kept him just a bit too occupied, and then there was Draco. Harry tended to drop whatever he was doing and drag his husband to bed practically the moment they were finished eating dinner each night.

Which meant that they only really talked for what? A half an hour each day? And most of that was Harry telling Draco about his day and Draco mentioning that he'd stopped in to check up on one of the many businesses he owned, and that things were running more or less smoothly.

On the plus side, this meant they hadn't argued much. On the minus side, it also meant that they hadn't really gotten to know each other very well either. Just the slightly deeper than superficial knowledge that they'd cultivated back in Hogwarts.

As Harry set about covering absolutely every surface in his house with something Christmas related, he couldn't help but wonder if their marriage was working out or not.

 

***

 

“ _Salazar's bloody prick_!” Draco exclaimed in dismay as he looked around. “What _have_ you done to our house?!”

Harry grinned proudly. “I finally got around to decorating it for Christmas.”

“Clearly, your taste in decoration leaves much to be desired,” Draco muttered. “Would you mind terribly if I fix this travesty when you are at work on Monday? Since I have nothing better to do with most of my time.”

Harry bit his lips and thought this over. On the one hand, he positively loved having as many Christmas decorations as he could possibly fit. On the other hand, Draco was showing an interest in making the house his too. That made Harry smile.

“You want to redecorate?”

Draco waved his hand around, palm up. “Actually, I've been itching to remodel this place a bit here and there. I can see that you've done things to fix up and make the house habitable and fairly comfortable, but it still looks like you took a house that had nearly fallen apart and just slapped it back together.”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted with a shrug. “I started out trying to fix everything up when I first moved in. I began with my bedroom, and then focused on places – like the kitchen and parlor – that were important to me. Hermione took charge of the library since she and Ron were living here for a while too. Ron made himself a sort of den around here somewhere that is practically a shrine to the Canons.”

“Yes...” Draco replied dryly. “I've noticed that...”

Harry chuckled. “Anyway, I just work so much that I haven't really had the time in a while. So... yes. I'm actually curious to see how you'd change things.”

Draco was momentarily flustered. He hadn't expected Harry to just trust him with his house so easily. The thought made his stomach twist and churn and just generally feel funny.

“Er... Then I'm going to need a favor,” Draco finally responded.

“Anything,” Harry promised, and then amended: “Within reason.”

Draco pressed his lips together for a moment as a physical cue to be cautious. “Well. If you're serious about letting me remodel, I insist on having everything done my way.”

Harry laughed. “Shockingly, I'd figured that out for myself.”

Draco pursed his lips and gave Harry a very light glare. “ _Which means_ that I want to hire people that I trust.”

“Alright...” Harry was now frowning in mild confusion, not sure why Draco was being so hesitant.

“Which means that I need you to let Greg and Millie past your Fidelius Charm,” Draco pointed out, and then gave Harry a challenging look that made it clear that this was non-negotiable. 

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, honestly not comfortable with the idea. However, he decided that he had to risk trusting Draco, otherwise he'd be the one guilty of not giving the marriage an honest try. Eventually, he sighed.

“Alright. Invite them over for dinner Monday night.”

 

***

 

Tea at the Manor was fairly uncomfortable at first. Harry and Draco were shown to a smaller parlor where a square table perfect for four people waited them. They sat down so that Harry was between Draco and Narcissa – which meant that Harry was across the table from Lucius.

The two stared at each other rather antagonistically even as Draco and Narcissa tried their best to engage everyone in polite but idle conversation.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Potter,” Narcissa greeted. “Lovely to see you again. I hope you are well.”

Still engaged in a silent battle of wills with Lucius, Harry didn't look at her as he replied. “I am well, thank you. And you can call me Harry. How are you?”

“I find my days to be rather serene and peaceful,” Narcissa informed him. “I imagine that being an Auror must make life rather exciting for you.”

“Yes and no,” Harry replied. “I have the rare adventure, but mostly my job is talking to people and filling out massive amounts of paperwork.”

“Harry told me that he's more like middle management. The less important Aurors and officers handle the minor cases. The major cases go to Aurors with the most seniority while Harry oversees them all and coordinates with others when necessary,” Draco explained.

“Is it _wise_ to have someone so young in charge of such important matters?” Lucius asked in a tone of voice that was mild and even, but nevertheless managed to convey his feeling on the subject. That Harry could not possibly be competent enough.

He and Harry were still glaring daggers at each other. Thus Harry was not inclined to confide in the snide bastard. Instead, he shrugged.

“I seem to do a pretty good job. Well enough that I'm going to be promoted to Deputy Head Auror when the spot opens in a couple of months.”

“And how is Deputy Head different than what you are currently doing?” Narcissa wondered curiously.

Harry snorted in amusement. “Bigger office. Otherwise, I'll be doing much the same I already am, except I'll be doing more of it.”

Lucius sneered. “Why don't they keep you out in the field where you belong?”

Harry actually smiled at him – but it was cold and just a little smug. “You _think_ that's an insult. What you don't realize is that I love and am very good at fieldwork. Being promoted to desk duty wasn't my idea; it was the result of too many of my cases getting unnecessarily complicated because reporters would hound me and fans would call in false leads or even confess to crimes they didn't commit just to get a chance to be interviewed by me.”

“Who would confess to a crime they didn't commit?!” Draco asked, utterly baffled by this concept.

“Nutters,” Harry answered, finally ending his silent battle with Lucius to give Draco a warm and amused smile. “It still happens from time to time. Last Wednesday, before the missing child case I told you about, I actually had to spend the better part of three hours listening to a man confess to sneaking into young girls' bedrooms and casting tickling hexes on them while they slept. He gave a lot of details. Names. Addresses. Descriptions of the houses. What the girls were wearing. How they sounded when they giggled. Even creepier things I frankly don't want to think about. And then, I had to assign a whole team of officers to go out and interview all the possible victims and their parents. Thankfully, the _entire_ crime had been created in his head. Even better, St. Mungo's has promised to help him get better.” 

“That must have been traumatizing for everyone involved,” Narcissa murmured before taking a delicate sip of tea.

“Very!” Harry exclaimed.

“And the missing child you mentioned?” Narcissa wondered curiously.

Harry sighed heavily. “Still missing. A little boy of two. His father is 'terrified' that his mother kidnapped him since they were having a bit of trouble and were talking about separating. So far, all the evidence suggests that the father may have purposely  _helped_ his wife and son disappear, and that they more than likely will never be found.”

Narcissa set her tea cup down and gave Harry a look of real sympathy. “There is a special place in hell for people who harm innocent children. I'm certain that boy's father will discover that himself, one day.”

“Is that so?” Harry asked with interest, surprised by the belief. He then turned his gaze back to Lucius.

Lucius looked like he dearly wished to roll his eyes. Rather than respond, he simply sipped on his tea. Harry took this as a minor win and selected a tiny sandwich off a tray.

Then he turned to smile at Narcissa again. “That reminds me, I brought something.”

“Oh?” She inquired curiously.

Harry summoned a container from the tiny pouch around his neck. It was a glass cake pan with a rubber lid. “I had Kreacher make a cake yesterday while we were decorating the house for Christmas. It's a cranberry crumble cake and I'm told that it would be a perfect addition to afternoon tea.”

“You and Draco decorated for Christmas?” Narcissa asked in surprise as she accepted the container. Draco hadn't been interested in such things in years.

“Er, no. Draco had something else to do, so it was just me and Kreacher,” Harry explained.

“Which just means that I now have to fix everything,” Draco added with a half exasperated expression. “It looks like the house was ransacked by a drunk toddler practicing his sticking charms!”

“Does not!” Harry protested with a light blush of embarrassment.

Draco gave Harry his best  _how stupid are you_ look. “The parlor alone looks like you made it your mission in life to buy every  _Happy Christmas_ banner ever made and paper the walls with them.”

“Does not!” Harry protested defensively.

“And the tree has so many ornaments on it that you can't see the branches,” Draco added.

Rather than protest again, Harry tilted his head to the side and bit his lip speculatively. “Actually, I can sort of agree with that. It's just that I get sent so many ornaments and other decorations that I don't quite know what to do with them all, so I squeeze them in wherever I can.”

“Just pick the ones you like the most and give the rest away,” Draco stated as if was so logical that it should have been obvious to even Harry.

“Er...” Harry droned awkwardly for a moment.

“What?” Draco wondered curiously.

“I'm not sure I've ever turned down a gift in my life,” Harry admitted, not counting the fifty pence piece that his aunt and uncle had given him back in First Year – which he'd given to Ron – because it was so obviously not a real present that it didn't count.

“Then you must have a room somewhere positively overflowing with them,” Draco said, and then snorted in amusement. “With all that fanmail you keep mentioning.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Sort of. I had to buy a large farm out in the country and hire a couple to take care of all the animals that get sent to me – since I don't have the time to take care of a pet or ten thousand. All the clothes get shoved into my closet. Scarves, hats, mittens, and the like are stored in the hall closet, and everything else goes into that room labeled storage down the hall from my bedroom. I had to expand the room so much that it looks like an entire warehouse on the inside, and I keep it locked with a strong spell because if I don't, the door bursts open at random and vomits out things until it looks like my hallway was hit by a hurricane.”

Harry frowned and looked sort of faraway for a moment. “And I think I have a fairy or something that lives in the room, because things from inside it will inexplicably appear in front of me when I need them. Such as the time I thought I should put something pretty on the wall of the stairs leading to the kitchen, and then I found a painting on the table.”

“Is _that_ why there's a horrid painting of a dog urinating on a tree there?!” Draco asked in surprise. “Because it was a gift from a fan who obviously had no taste, and you had a fairy – or more likely, a pixie – pull a prank on you?” He then looked mildly horrified. “That might actually be worse than my assumption that your tacky weasel gave it to you as a joke and you couldn't bring yourself to hurt his feelings and toss it in the bin where it belongs.”

Harry shrugged. “You can put it back in storage if you want when you remodel the house.”

“Put it in storage!” Draco exclaimed in dismay. “And _why_ can't I just throw it out?!”

“It was a gift,” Harry explained with a frown.

Draco rubbed his forehead with two fingers in an attempt to find something to say that wasn't incredulous/frustrated stuttering.

“Do you just throw your gifts away?” Harry wondered.

“Well no,” Draco replied with a frown. “But no one has ever had the audacity to give me anything so wretched.”

Harry shrugged. “My aunt and uncle never gave me anything at all, except old worn out socks for my birthday and...” he paused to give it some thought. “They gave me a toothpick for Christmas my Second Year. I actually  _did_ throw that away.”

“A toothpick?” Draco asked with a frown of disbelief.

Harry merely shrugged again. “And they were so very determined to be ordinary that my aunt allowed for one medium-sized tree decorated exactly as much as it had to be to show Christmas spirit without attracting attention. There were no banners. The outside of the house had one string of plain white lights lining the roof, and all the presents under the tree were for Dudley – aside from the single present each that they gave each other. It was always weird and slightly amusing to watch Dudley open his presents and then proceed to immediately destroy them all.”

Harry looked lost in thought again. “His second bedroom was a bit like a warehouse for broken toys and things before... Well, before I got my first Hogwarts letter, and it was addressed: Mr. H. Potter, the cupboard under the stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. After that, my aunt and uncle were worried that they might get in trouble, so they gave me Dudley's second bedroom and I had to clean it out – once they finally managed to calm Dudley's tantrum by buying him a new bed and some more games for his computer. Worked out for me though, since I got to have Dudley's old bed rather than sleep on the floor.”

Draco was giving him a suspicious look. “You're having me on.”

“Not so. Why do you think I never went home for any of my holidays?” Harry asked. “There wouldn't have been any point. And I'd've never gone back in the summer either if I could help it. They couldn't stand me being a freak and going to my freak school, so they locked me in my room and put bars on my window between first and second year. They weren't going to allow me to go back, and I think they hoped that they could starve me until I was too weak to fight back, but Ron and the twins flew their dad's car over and broke me out. I stayed the rest of that summer with him. After that, I always remembered to stock up on anything I could when leaving for summer hols. That way, I had something to ration if I needed to.”

“ _What_?!” Draco demanded, sounding positively furious. “You _can't_ be serious! Not even muggles are allowed to treat children like that!” 

“As an Auror, I can confirm that you are right, but as a child, I didn't really know any better, just that my life sort of sucked and that I was beyond grateful to go to Hogwarts each year,” Harry replied, sounding a bit hard and, well, like an Auror – a confident one who commanded respect, despite his youth.

“Are you trying to make us pity you with this story?” Lucius asked coldly. 

Harry didn't care enough to respond, but Draco did. He surprised everyone – even himself – by glaring lightly at his father.

“Story? You think Harry is lying?” Draco asked with the hint of a soft growl. “Harry doesn't lie. It's part of his Gryffindor foolishness.”

Lucius studied his son for a moment, still surprised to see and hear Draco defend Harry. It was unlike him. He decided to opt for tact. “I do not think he is lying so much as exaggerating things to make you sympathize with him.”

Narcissa cleared her throat delicately and held up her fork, which contained a small portion of the cranberry crumble cake. “This is positively delicious. I hadn't expected my aunt's old house elf to make something so wonderful. I'd love him to share the recipe with our elves.”

Harry smiled at her. “Sure. I'll owl it to you when I get home.”

It suddenly occurred to Draco that Harry occasionally lied after all, but claiming his house elf cooked was vastly different than claiming his relatives mistreated him. He spent the next several minutes – as his mother and Harry made pleasant small talk – wondering what would happened if he paid a visit to those muggles. Surely a little intimidation and veiled threats never hurt anyone...

 

***

 

“Why are we here, Draco?” Millie demanded a bit petulantly when she Apparated with her husband to an empty lot five minutes late.

“You mean you didn't tell them?” Harry asked asked he stepped out from behind the wards so that they could see him.

“If I had, they probably would have ignored me,” Draco stated with a shrug.

“Told us what?” Millie asked insistently. She and her husband were both rather tired from their long day and wanted nothing more than to go home, eat dinner, and go to bed. The only reason that she had followed Draco's instructions to meet him here was his promise that he'd make it worth their while.

Draco swept a hand out to indicate Harry, who stepped forward with a tentatively friendly smile on his face. He held out a piece of paper for each of them. They hesitated to take it because even Greg had enough presence of mind to realized that it could be some sort of trap.

“I promise this is just paper,” Harry assured them. “It won't hurt you, and once you look at it, you'll see why it's important.”

Both looked to Draco, who nodded encouragingly. With a wary glance at each other, they shrugged and took the paper. A moment later, they looked up from the paper and were startled to see a house squeeze itself in between it's neighbors.

“Come on,” Harry invited, turning into the wards around the house. 

“I warn you, I haven't yet managed to fix the bad decorating job Harry did for Christmas, so try not to cringe too hard,” Draco advised as he also beckoned them to follow.

“Draco...?” Millie asked in confusion even as Greg followed the person he was still in the habit of following around and obeying as much as possible.

“It's alright, Millie,” Draco murmured. “I live here with Harry.”

This actually made Millie stand up a bit straighter and grin slyly. “Have Pansy and Blaise been here yet?”

“Salazar no! Why would they want to?” Draco wondered.

Feeling rather triumphant and smug, Millie finally walked forward. “No reason at all other than to say that they had the privilege first.”

Draco nodded to acknowledge that she had a point. A couple minutes later, they had been introduced to Walburga and brought into the smaller parlor that Draco had focused his attention on first so that it would be easier for his friends to feel comfortable in. Not that he truly expected them to be comfortable at any point during their first visit.

Greg and Millie were both wearing work clothes, having just come from their current work site. They had a business building and or remodeling houses, garages, sheds, and whatnot. Not all of their clients were part of the Wizarding World, so they had learned and were good at muggle techniques too. Their clothes were sturdy and bore the unmistakable signs of hard use.

Draco was wearing one of his more casual robes, but even so, he was the picture of wealth. Both of his friends were used to this and paid it no attention. What surprised them was that Harry was also wearing clothes that looked, well, not exactly well-worn like they were used to seeing him wear in Hogwarts. But not posh either. He was wearing denim trousers and a plain tee shirt.

This actually set them just a tiny bit at ease since he wasn't trying to come across as better than them. Especially since they hadn't known they were going to be visiting his place tonight and would have dressed better if they had known. Draco gestured an invitation for them to take seats around a table that had been set up with dinner for four.

“I hope you're hungry,” Harry informed them. “I had Kreacher simmer pork ribs in sauerkraut all day today while I was at work, so now they are so tender and juicy that they'll practically melt in your mouth.”

Greg promptly sat in the nearest seat, but Millie prevented him from opening the cover to his plate. “What if it's been poisoned or cursed?”

Harry snorted. “I would never waste good food like that!”

And now that Draco knew that Harry had been starved on occasion as a child, he utterly believed those words. “He really wouldn't, and if I thought he would, I wouldn't let him.”

This was all Greg needed to lift the silver dome off the plate and take a deep breath in. “Mmm...”

Millie couldn't help but moan as well. “That does smell good.” She tentatively took a seat next to her husband, leaving Harry and Draco to take seats on the opposite side of the rectangular table.

Kreacher poured the wine Draco insisted upon and they all ate in relative silence for a few minutes. Long enough for the edge to be taken off their hunger and the wine to relax them just a little. It was then that Millie smiled at Draco – who sat across from her.

“Alright, out with it,” she insisted. “Why exactly have you invited us over to Harry Potter's super secret home for dinner?”

“I have a business opportunity for you,” Draco informed her with a hint of a smile.

She immediately glared at him. “You know full well that we are not interested in any of your investments.” This was not because the businesses didn't make money, but because they tended to require investor participation in planning meetings and the like, and they were already far too busy running their own business.

“You misunderstand me,” Draco murmured with a hint of a fond smile. “I want to hire you.”

This was something Millie could get behind, so she scrutinized Draco suspiciously as she asked. “Hire us for what?”

Draco made a gesture to indicate the house. “I want to remodel. It should go without saying that I'd only hire people I trust.”

This actually took Millie aback just a little since she didn't think Draco would openly admit to trusting anyone.

Greg, realizing that the conversation was firmly in a subject he could understand, spoke up. “We haven't seen the rest of the house yet, but from the little we have seen, I can understand why you'd want to remodel. The outside of the house alone looks like it's abandoned or occupied by ghouls. We should probably start by casting spells to reinforce the structural integrity – although, most of the pureblood properties have that to begin with.”

“I was actually thinking that the entryway should be expanded so that it's not such a tight hallway,” Millie added.

Harry smiled at them, impressed that they actually did seem to know what they were doing. “I'll leave everything up to you and Draco, except for the kitchen. I've already set that up exactly the way I want it, so it's off limits.”

Draco nodded and took a sip of his wine. “Actually, I think that all of the rooms you put effort into are fine. Aside from the fact that I want to brighten and expand our bedroom. I was also thinking that maybe I should add a second closet, or maybe this will give me an excuse to go through the closet and sort out everything you obviously never wear. Then I can expand it – add a comfortable changing bench and some mirrors, and things like that.”

“If you do that, I'll show you how to get into my storage and then lock it back up again so that it doesn't vomit things at random,” Harry said. “I should probably show you that anyway if you're going to be redecorating.”

“Are you serious about keeping every little thing?” Draco asked in dismay.

“Of course,” Harry replied with a look like he honestly couldn't understand why Draco would think that he wouldn't keep everything.

Draco sighed. “Listen, I suppose that it really doesn't matter since you have a room to store everything, but what good is that? Why not only keep the things you like the most, or have or will have value in the future? Everything else can be given away to one charity or another, which means that the items will be used.”

“I suppose that makes some sense,” Harry admitted reluctantly.

Draco considered that a win and decided to change the subject for now. “There's a music room on the second floor that I'm not sure anyone has set foot in for decades. I'd love to make that one of my priorities. I saw a valuable grand piano in there, which I could probably fix up.”

Had Draco said that before they'd toured his bedroom yesterday after tea, Harry might have been completely confused. Now, however, he knew that Draco not only owned a gorgeous antique piano, but that he could play it very well. He smiled at the thought of Draco fixing the piano the muggle way, and then decided that there was probably a spell or something that he'd use instead.

“That could be your special room – like Hermione's library and Ron's den.”

Draco narrowed his eyes in distaste. “Speaking of which, I think I'll throw everything in that room out and paint it a nice shade of Slytherin Green.”

Harry laughed. “Don't you dare! I revise my earlier statement, you can remodel every room in the house except for my kitchen, Ron's den, and Hermione's library.”

Draco feigned a put upon expression, and then sighed. “Well, I suppose that still means that I get most of the house.”

Greg was still too busy eating to care about the conversation – and was now half through a second portion – but Millie gave Draco a piercing look. She was surprised that he was taking such an interest in a house that he only planned to live in for approximately another five months.

Draco pressed his lips together in a way that Millie recognized as the Slytherin technique of suppressing a sly smirk when planning to convince someone to agree to something and think it was their own idea.

“So, while Greg, Millie, and I are remodeling the house, what should we do if we come across any valuable Black Heirlooms that you don't want?” Draco asked.

Harry snorted. “I'm not sure there are any left. Mundungus Fletcher scavenged anything valuable he could find and sold it off not too long after Dumbledore died, which is why Ron, Hermione, and I had to Polyjuice into Ministry employees and – I probably shouldn't tell you that.”

Before anyone could respond, Harry shrugged and continued. “In any case, if there are, you can do whatever you like with them – such as put them in storage.”

Draco decided to stick to his point before chasing that interesting bit of information. “So, if I find anything that means something to my mother as a member of the Black family, I have your permission to give it to her?”

“Of course!” Harry agreed with a look like he genuinely wondered why Draco thought Harry would object to that.

“Huh,” Draco couldn't help but state softly. He really hadn't expected that. Having won what he thought would be at least a minor argument, he decided to go back to that tidbit Harry let slip. “So then, what's this about Polyjuice and Ministry employees?”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “I wondered if you'd let that go. I know they were sent from the castle during the Final Battle.” Which actually referred more to Millie since Greg had been with Draco until Crabbe's death, and then Greg disappeared and Harry had always assumed that he simply left the castle and got to safety somehow. “But you were there. Do you remember when I was circling Voldemort in the great hall?”

Draco mostly suppressed a flinch at the name while Greg and Millie both gasped because they still felt the name was taboo.

“How could I forget?” Draco asked dryly.

“Do you remember me talking about wands and whatnot?” Harry asked.

Draco simply nodded.

“Well, half of what I was doing while on the run that year was learning about the Elder Wand,” Harry informed them. “And the other half was finding all of the Horcruxes that Voldemort (more gasps) made.” He was fairly sure that this was common knowledge. Books had been written about it, but since none of them were authorized by Harry, none of them had actual details – such as what the Horcruxes were.

He took a sip of wine before continuing. “One of the Horcruxes was a locket originally belonging to Salazar Slytherin. It had been found by Regulus Black long before Dumbledore and I raided the cave Voldemort (softer gasps) hid it in. That was the night Dumbledore died. Anyway, Regulus hid it in this house and Mundungus discovered it, but knowing nothing about it other than that it was valuable, sold it to Umbridge. And so, when we figured out that she had it, we had to sneak into the Ministry and steal it from her.”

Draco didn't really know what to think at first. Then he smiled faintly. “Such a Gryffindor thing to do. A Slytherin probably would have invited her for drinks and offered her a hefty sum for it. And if she wouldn't sell, hmm... steal it and Obliviate all memory of it from her.”

Harry laughed. “That's  _nothing_ compared to a couple of months later when we had to break into Gringott's, steal Helga Hufflepuff's cup from Bellatrix's vault, and then escape on the back of a dragon.”

“Now _that_ I've heard of,” Draco stated with a wry smirk.

Greg, showing a surprising amount of intelligence, interrupted them a moment later. “So wait... these things... Horcruxes? These were the things you needed to find in order to destroy the Dark Lord?”

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed.

“Does that mean that diadem thing you were looking for... _that night_... Was that one too?”

“Yeah,” Harry murmured in sympathy. “There were seven. Voldemort's (flinching) diary that opened the Chamber of Secrets in Second Year. His grandfather's ring that Dumbledore destroyed – ruining his hand and cursing himself to death in the process – which was staved off for nearly a year before Snape killed him at his request.”

Draco paled at that but didn't say anything because he felt that might be a conversation better held in private later on.

“Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, Nagini, and me,” Harry ended by tapping his famous lightning bolt scar.

“Fuck!” Millie swore when she realized that Harry had just told them something that had only ever been suspected by most of Slytherin house. Not to mention, it was showing them some serious trust to give them such intimate details. It made her squirm uncomfortably.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed solemnly. 

“So wait,” Greg said after a moment of heavy silence. “If your scar is a Horcrux, and you needed to destroy them all in order to defeat the Dark Lord, then how did you defeat him if...?” He pointed at Harry's scar.

Harry smiled softly at Greg, more because he could understand the confusion than because of it being a memory worth smiling about. “Well, after I found out that I was a Horcrux and that all of the others had been destroyed – except for Nagini, which I'd sent Neville after – I walked straight up to Voldemort (more flinching) and let him kill me (startled gasps). When he cast the Killing Curse on me, he destroyed the Horcrux inside me. With that gone and once Neville killed Nagini, anyone at all could have killed Voldemort (twitching and eye ticks), but while dead, I talked to Dumbledore, and he convinced me that I still had to be the one to do it. It's because he knew – or at least suspected – that I was the Master of the Elder Wand by that point, and that it would not kill its Master no matter how much Voldemort (twitching) tried. Thus I agreed to come back and, well...” He spread his hands wide in a gesture that meant:  _you know the rest._

“Wait, you actually _died_?” Draco blurted out in horror.

Rather than confirm it, Harry simply shrugged. To his profound relief, Ron Apparated into the room.

“Hey Harry, can I – er... sorry?”

Harry chuckled. “No, it's alright, Ron. What do you need?”

“Nothing much,” Ron assured him. “Just that Hermione had to work late and she's too tired to cook or go out to eat – not even to the Burrow. So I was hoping that you'd let me raid your stasis box.”

“Go right ahead, just _do not_ eat or take the chocolate caramel spice cake that was made for dessert _for us_ ,” Harry warned sternly.

“Merlin and Godric, that sounds good!” Ron half moaned from the thought. “Anything else in stasis that I'd like?”

“Yeah, actually, I have a three layer cake that's cinnamon pumpkin on top, maple cheesecake in the middle, and cherry chocolate on bottom,” Harry explained.

“Mmm...” Both Ron and Greg moaned in longing.

“As for Hermione, I think I might possibly still have some apple bread pudding,” Harry added.

“Now _that_ sounds good!” Millie blurted out.

With a laugh, Harry decided that it was probably time for Kreacher to bring out the dessert. He also asked the elf to let Ron pack up anything he wanted, and then bring out a selection of the other desserts in stasis. When Ron heard this, he changed his mind, quickly grabbed Hermione, and then reappeared with her a moment later.

“Ooph!” She grunted when Ron practically pushed her into a chair. “Ron, wha –!” She sighed in defeat. “Hello Harry. Draco.” She looked around in mild surprise. “Millicent. Gregory. How are you all this evening?”

There was a round of grunted:  _good._

“Lovely. Ron, care to explain why we're crashing what looks to be a private dinner party?”

Rather than answer, Ron pointed to the plate of food Kreacher was just now setting in front of Hermione. It was the ribs and kraut that smelled absolutely fantastic – which ended all of Hermione's protests as she enthusiastically dug in. She didn't even complain when she noticed Ron tuck into a plate loaded up with a variety of cakes. A raised brow let them know that she realized that Ron had basically stopped thinking when he saw all the dessert.

She exhaled a long sigh of resignation, resisting the urge to shake her head at her fiancé.

“Draco's going to remodel,” Harry informed them. “I reckon that since you studied the original blueprints to the house and the annotated updated ones, you might be able to offer some advice.”

Hermione couldn't quite suppress a yawn. “Sorry. Er, yes. Actually, now that I think about it, I put them in my purse and forgot all about them so...” she trailed off in order to summon said prints from her miniscule purse. She handed them to Draco – who she was sitting next to – on the end of the rectangular table between him and Millie.

Draco pointed to Millie. “Hand them to her since she'll be the one who needs them.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked with interest as she gave Millie the prints. “How do you feel about adding onto a house in muggle London?”

“Depends on what you want added,” Millie stated cautiously.

“A sun room and a greenhouse,” Hermione murmured.

“Shouldn't be too difficult,” Millie stated. Greg nodded in agreement around a mouth positively packed with cake, which he was enjoying with vocal relish.

“But it'll probably have to wait until after this house – which in and of itself will have to wait until after the hols so that we have time to finish up out current project,” Millie explained.

“That's not a problem,” Hermione assured her.

After that, the conversation was surprisingly light and jovial. Greg and Ron – perhaps not unexpectedly – bonded over their love of food, which was a subject Harry enjoyed talking about as well. This left Hermione, Draco, and Millie idly discussing various remodeling techniques and practices.

By the end of the evening, Draco felt... stunned by how well everyone got along.

 

***

 

By the time Christmas eve arrived, Draco felt nearly exhausted by the way Harry had  _not only_ had a big dinner party for all his friends – which Draco invited Greg and Millie to since they already had access to the house and needed to visit it few times for planning purposes anyway – but Harry had  _also_ had a nearly non-stop string of his friends simply dropping in as they liked the entire week. It was a good thing Harry'd had the week off of work, otherwise Draco would have cast an Avada Kedavra on him!

There'd been one good thing about the week; Draco had sleepily arrived in the kitchen one morning to find Harry busy cooking up a fabulous feast. Before Harry even noticed Draco in the kitchen, he snuck up and wrapped his arms around Harry and asked if he needed any help.

Startled to be caught, Harry let out a yelp, but then rather than attempt to deny being the one doing the actual cooking (with Kreacher helping as needed), Harry simply smiled and nodded. However, he insisted that Draco eat breakfast first, which meant that Draco had an excuse to stare in amazement as Harry – wearing pajama bottoms and an apron but nothing else – set up all sorts of food that needed to be slow cooked, marinated, or otherwise prepared in advance.

And then there was the baking! Draco helped with that and feared that he might get fat just tasting all of the batters for the cakes and cookies and pies! He almost melted into a puddle of bliss under the kitchen table to resemble a comatose patient.

In any case, he was relieved that it was  _finally_ the day that was going to be just the two of them – thus, quiet.

“Here,” Draco murmured, handing Harry a small package after they finished a much lighter dinner than they'd had all week. A suspiciously romantic, candlelit dinner.

Harry smiled at the package before suddenly looking nervous. He produced another package and handed it to Draco. “I got you something too.”

Draco decided to go first so that Harry would stop looking like he was expecting a hex. He delicately pried open the wrapping paper to reveal an incredibly rare book of spells that was rumored to be written by either Merlin himself, or one of Merlin's direct apprentices. The book was so valuable that Draco wasn't entirely certain he would have bought it for himself if he saw the price tag!

“Wow...” was all he could say because he was just too stunned.

Harry promptly grinned and sighed in relief. Then he tore open his package, nearly obliterating the wrapping paper in the process. A moment later, he held up a necklace – one of two. Both were gold. The chains were a rectangular link that was manly yet sort of delicate at the same time. From each chain dangled a pendant that was a rather plain oval about three quarters of an inch at its longest. The ovals were imprinted with initials.

“You got me a pair of monogrammed necklaces?” Harry asked, more curious than anything.

“You don't like it?” Draco accused, suddenly nervous even though he hadn't been because Hermione had assured him that Harry would love it.

“It's not that!” Harry blurted out in his haste to reassure his husband. “I love it! I just can't figure out why there are two necklaces.”

In relief, Draco smiled. “Those necklaces have two purposes. The first purpose is not obvious at all. They are magically connected so that we can talk to each other if we have to, since I can't cast a Patronus, and even if I could, they're not exactly discrete. Along the same lines, they both contain a powerful protective shield – since you are an Auror who occasionally goes off on dangerous missions.”

Harry harrumphed softly. “Not so much anymore,” he said with a smile, touched at how thoughtful the gift actually was.

“The second purpose is that they _both_ have HJP on one side, and DLM on the other,” Draco murmured quietly. “To prove to you that I'm...” he trailed off with a faint sigh.

“What?” Harry asked avidly.

“That I'm actually trying. That I'm giving this marriage my best effort. That I'm not just playing along and waiting patiently for the end of the six months,” Draco explained.

Harry stared at Draco with no expression other than a faint smile for a long moment. “I'm glad you told me that,” he finally said. “It can be hard to tell with you. Especially since we don't talk that much.”

“I think we're both just trying to avoid the inevitable arguing,” Draco grumbled as he looked away.

“There is that,” Harry agreed with a smirk. He then put his necklace on, examining it to find that yes, it really did contain both set of initials. Also, the initials were written in their actual handwriting – which Harry assumed was the reason Hermione asked him to initial a dull form that she droned at him for a few minutes before he gave in and did as she asked just so that she'd go away.

Standing up, Harry walked around the table and placed the other necklace around Draco's neck. When it was clasped shut, he bent over impulsively and kissed Draco. Tenderly, at first. It was their first kiss – unless they had kissed while drunk during their wedding night, but Harry couldn't remember doing so. The kiss deepened after a few seconds, turning hot and rather possessive when Draco parted his soft lips and Harry took advantage of this to explore with his tongue.

With a groan of longing, Draco pulled Harry onto his lap. The chair creaked rather alarmingly as Harry straddled Draco and rubbed their groins together, despite still being fully clothed. Their kissing turned into a mini battle of swirling tongues, which pulled happy grunts from each of them.

At some point, Draco got frustrated with the maddening teasing and decided that there needed to be less clothes in the way. To his delight, the table had been cleared while they were preoccupied. Somewhat abruptly, he lifted Harry off his lap and onto the table. Then he practically tore Harry's shirt off so that he could devour all the skin on Harry's chest.

Something strange happened. No matter how many times he wanted to focus on something else – such as sucking on Harry's rosy little nipples – he kept interrupting himself to kiss Harry some more. Long lingering kisses that hindered the process of taking off their clothes.

Harry finally got impatient enough that he cast a spell to make their clothes intangible just long enough to be banished to the other side of the room. This made them both hiss happily at the glorious feel of their naked chests and groins pressed together. Their hands roamed at will as their kiss just went on and on and on.

“Merlin's crooked prick I want you!” Draco blurted out when he was so turned on that he wasn't entirely sure he could remember his own name.

Harry spread his legs a bit wider in invitation. Then he cast all the spells he had gotten so good at performing wandlessly since Draco had moved in. The thought of Harry well-prepared and eager for him nearly made Draco finish right then and there!

He pulled back to rest his head on Harry's chest and calm down for a moment, and then he lined himself up with Harry's soft pucker and pressed forward with a soft and somewhat embarrassing noise. Harry hummed happily, grabbing Draco by the neck so that he could kiss Draco while Draco ground him into the table.

“So good!” Harry praised breathlessly.

“So good!” Draco agreed, adding: “You feel so good!”

“Mmmhmm. Oh God! Like that!” Harry cried out.

“I'm not-I'm not,” Draco stuttered. “Gonna last!”

Harry kissed him again and whispered in his ear. “Fill me up, Draco. Please?”

The begging did it. Hearing that sent Draco over the edge, squealing very very softly as he pumped Harry full with what felt like gallons. Best of all, Harry was rippling from orgasm all over his shaft.

When he was done, Draco slumped onto Harry and panted heavily for a minute or so. Eventually, Harry gave him one more tiny kiss.

“Happy Christmas, Draco.”

With quite possibly his first genuinely happy smile, Draco murmured: “Happy Christmas, Harry.”

Grinning in return, Harry tilted his head in the direction of the stairs. “So... you want to go to bed and see if we can be the death of each other three or four more times before we pass out?”

“Yes please!”

Hand in hand and on wobbly legs, they did exactly that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So that turned out longer than I expected, and not nearly as funny, but I think that's because I was actually trying to move forward with the plot, lol.  
> The next chapter might actually have the angst I've been planning from the beginning, lol. I'm not planning to write about Harry and Draco attending Blaise and Pansy's swinger party because I think what will happen is that Harry and Draco will attend for about a half an hour and Harry will feel uncomfortable because everyone is staring at him and clearly plotting how to get him naked and shag him silly, lol. As much as *I* enjoy a good play party, I think Harry is still too insecure in his relationship to be comfortable giving it a try.  
> That said, how many of you actually want to read (in a future story) a story about Harry and Draco going to a swinger party hosted by Pansy and Blaise? Also, who else would you like to see attend and what pairings?


End file.
